A Deal With The Devil
by Gracielinn
Summary: What would Lucy be willing to sacrifice to save Wyatt's life? UPDATE: I have decided to end this story where it is right now, and hope to continue it sometime in the future with a sequel. My apologies to everyone who reviewed, followed, and favorited this fic for the delay. Thank you.
1. Chapter 1

A Deal With The Devil

You could cut the atmosphere in the conference room during the pre-mission briefing with a knife. " _If female eyes were weapons_ ," Wyatt thought, " _Rufus Carlin was a dead man walking_ ," as Lucy, Jiya, and Agent Christopher each went silent and directed an unamused stare at the pilot after his ill-advised quip. "You mean, like Women's Lib?" he had snickered while Lucy was explaining the possible historical significance of their latest mission. Emma and her henchmen had taken the mother ship to upstate New York on July 18, 1848, and upon learning the exact destination, Lucy was able to offer a plausible theory on Emma's possible motives.

Wyatt smothered a grin as Rufus had tried to back pedal, but it was too late ( _Someone is going to be banished to the couch when they returned_ ). "Are you smiling, Wyatt Logan?" an obviously irate historian asked. Immediately schooling his facial features into a respectful mien, he replied, "No, Ma'am." Lucy huffed her disbelief, but let it slide as she continued, "As I was saying, the Seneca Falls Convention was held July 19 and 20, 1848, in Seneca Falls, New York, where the 'Declaration of Sentiments' was presented. The Declaration was written by Elizabeth Cady Stanton, who was a prominent champion of women's rights in the mid- to late-1800's. She was credited with initiating the first organized women's suffrage movement in the United States."

Wyatt smiled at the passionate fervor in Lucy's voice for the subject, but unfortunately, she misinterpreted his expression. "Wyatt," she said earnestly, "before crusaders like Mrs. Stanton and Lucretia Mott, women in this country had so few rights and choices in their lives, even over their own bodies. For example, women couldn't legally own property and divorce was almost unheard of even if domestic abuse was involved. Most were married and expected to bear children whether they wanted to or not because there were very little reliable or even acceptable contraceptives."

Wyatt's dark blue eyes widened as Lucy leaned across the conference room table toward him. "In simplest terms, it means that most women back then were practically forced to have babies, even if they were not physically able to or couldn't afford to feed them." "Lucy," Wyatt interrupted, "I happen to admire and appreciate strong, opinionated women." At his intent gaze, her face reddened, and she sat back in her chair. As they continued to stare at each other, Rufus interjected, "Hey, I like strong women, too."

Wyatt rolled his eyes ( _Just give it up, man_ ) as the three women turned to look at Rufus, who offered a sheepish grin. Agent Christopher stood abruptly and ended the meeting by advising, "The lifeboat will be fully charged in less than 30 minutes, so you three better get to Wardrobe." At her words, Jiya jumped up from her chair and followed the agent out of the room, with Rufus hot on her heels trying to mollify his girlfriend. Lucy and Wyatt looked at each other and laughed as their friend's voice trailed away, "Jiya, c'mon, you know I was just trying to be funny, Jiya, baby..."

Lucy chuckled as Wyatt observed wryly, "Someone's in the dog house." As they made their way from the conference room to the Wardrobe bay, Lucy picked up where she had left off, "Wyatt, I don't have any idea what possible reasons Emma or my mother would have for disrupting this convention, but we absolutely have to protect Mrs. Stanton, and this convention has to conclude with the presentation of her declaration."

Wyatt stopped, and putting a comforting hand on Lucy's arm, assured her, "Lucy, we will do our very best, just like we always do. Try not to worry, okay? Now, you better get moving, because there's probably a corset in there somewhere calling your name," and he smirked at the frown she shot him. With a dimpled grin, he confessed, "Hey, I know you hate the corsets, but I'm just caveman enough to admit I like the way you look in one." Her dark eyes widened and her cheeks pinked at his words, and she stood frozen in place as he turned and walked into the men's locker room.

The women's locker room door suddenly opened in front of her with Jiya admonishing, "Lucy! What are you just standing there for? We have to hurry because I need to do your hair, too." Biting her lip, Lucy shook her head and going into the locker room, quickly stripped down. With Jiya's able assistance, she first donned pantilettes and a thin sleeveless chemise, then sat on the bench and began rolling delicate cotton stockings up her slim calves over her knees, fastened the garters, and slipped on soft leather half boots before Jiya wrapped the dreaded corset around her and started lacing it up. She groaned softly as the laces tightened. Trying to distract herself, Lucy thought about telling the younger woman what Wyatt had just said to her, but decided to keep his unexpectedly flirtatious words to herself.

In the month since Emma had stolen the mother ship and Lucy had learned of her mother's duplicitous plans, she and Wyatt had existed in a strange kind of limbo. They had never again discussed "possibilities" even though mere days later, both of them had been moved into adjacent apartments in a building under 24-hour NSA protection. They actually spent quite a bit of their down time with each other, sharing meals and talking, watching blu rays, going on runs every morning they weren't working. She couldn't speak for Wyatt, but she felt lonely on the rare occasions when they weren't together. And though she tried not to, Lucy relived their sham kiss in front of Bonnie and Clyde in 1934 far more often than was probably a good idea.

Lucy had realized months ago, especially after the mission to 1944 Nazi Germany, that the first spark of attraction she had unwillingly felt for Master Sergeant Wyatt Logan was slowly, inevitably growing into a deep, abiding love the likes of which she had never experienced before. The lack of forward movement in their relationship ( _are we actually even in a relationship?_ ) made her heart ache at times. She longed to revisit the conversation about possibilities and often wished she were brave enough to just flat out talk to Wyatt about her feelings. But she was a coward, and her fear that he was still in love with his dead wife Jessica trapped the words inside her.

Jiya interrupted her wistful musings, "Here, Lucy, arms up," she ordered as she dropped the first starched petticoat over Lucy's head. Two more petticoats were followed by a long-sleeved, bell-skirted dress in a small pink floral pattern. Lucy waited patiently as Jiya fastened the long line of tiny buttons up the back of the dress and sighed when Jiya consoled, "Almost done, Lucy, just hair and a little makeup, oh, and jewelry." When her dress was finally all buttoned, Lucy shook out her skirts and moved over to the small table where Jiya had a plugged-in curling iron ready. She stood quietly as the other woman deftly pulled most of Lucy's dark wavy hair into a neat bun at the back of her head, and carefully curled ringlets in front of each ear.

"Lucy, I am always amazed at how good you look in period clothes," Jiya offered as she looked at Lucy in the mirror. She smiled at the sentiment, but demurred, "Thanks, but you deserve the credit, Jiya, for getting me ready every time." Jiya brushed off the compliment, "I actually enjoy all this, 'cause it's like having my own 'Lucy' doll to dress up," and both women giggled at her confession.

A sharp knock at the door was followed by Wyatt asking, "Lucy, are you nearly done? Rufus is already on board." "Be right out," she called, and picking up the bonnet Jiya had laid out for her, started for the door. "Wait, Lucy! Don't forget about your jewelry," and Lucy obediently turned around to insert small drop earrings in her ears. "And, last but not least, we can't forget about your wedding ring," and as a grinning Jiya handed over the slim gold band, Lucy fought to suppress the tiny thrill she got every time this particular piece of jewelry was necessary for a mission.

Along with all the incredibly authentic clothes, shoes, and accessories for each of the team members that filled the large Wardrobe bay, Connor Mason had procured actual 24K gold wedding bands for the two of them. During the second mission where they had worn the rings, she and Wyatt had been taken aback to discover that Connor had gotten the bands personalized. Wyatt's wide gold band was inscribed "W. Logan" and, to her secret delight, Lucy's ring read "L. Logan." Surprisingly, Wyatt had made no comment about the inscriptions, merely raised one dark eyebrow when Lucy blushed.

Pushing the gold band onto her left ring finger, Lucy snatched up her fingerless gloves and a small drawstring bag, as well as the straw bonnet with pink flowers and burgundy ribbons, and hurried after Jiya to the platform where Wyatt was waiting patiently to help her in the lifeboat. ( _He looks so very handsome in his costume._ )

Waiting just outside the lifeboat, Wyatt had been absentmindedly rubbing his thumb against the wedding band he wore as he waited for Lucy. Now that they had worn the rings on several previous missions, it no longer felt odd on his finger. The silver band that Jessica had placed on his hand nearly ten years ago currently resided in the back of a dresser drawer at his place. At the time, Wyatt had been sure he would never again wear a wedding ring, but he found that he didn't mind wearing this ring at all ( _strictly for missions, of course_ ).

Many times over the past few weeks, Wyatt had wanted to continue their conversation about possibilities, but he just wasn't sure how to approach Lucy about the subject. That day at Mason, her big dark eyes intently looking up at him even as he fumbled his way through a lame explanation of why he wasn't ready to say goodbye to her, Wyatt hoped she could interpret what he was really trying to say. He suspected that Lucy had feelings for him, but what if he was wrong?

Wyatt would never forget the way she saved him at the Alamo, when she had bravely charged over to him, heedless of the danger all around, and demanded that he escape with them through the aqua duct. Lucy was the reason he was alive today, and his initial feelings of gratitude and affection had deepened into something much stronger than he had ever experienced with anyone except Jessica. Wyatt would catch himself gazing at Lucy's mouth and thinking about their kiss in 1934 more frequently than he was comfortable with, but he just couldn't seem to stop himself.

That was why he had been so angry at Lucy after Flynn had taunted him about the journal in 1972 Washington D.C. Wyatt's male pride had been eviscerated by the older man's calm, mocking voice filling his head with doubts and driving a wedge between him and Lucy. For a time, his trust in Lucy had been shaken, and while it had been personally painful, it also could have been deadly for their team. Thank God she had confronted him about his asshole behavior in 1754. Wyatt still experienced remorse over the way he had let Flynn manipulate him into hurting Lucy. And while he was pretty sure he hadn't earned it, he knew that she had forgiven him. But all that was in the past now, and while things between the two of them weren't moving forward quite as quickly as he wished, Wyatt was optimistic that with a little time and some patience on his part, he and Lucy could make it work. Since Jess died, no other woman had even come close with him except his favorite history professor.

He looked up at the sound of Lucy and Jiya's chatter as they made their way to the platform, and smiled at how pretty Lucy looked in her costume. Even though he knew that she really disliked the corsets, Wyatt meant what he had said to her earlier. From the very first time they met, he thought she was attractive, although not necessarily his type (up to then, Wyatt had always preferred blondes), but as the months passed, and they spent more and more time together, often in life-or-death situations, he had realized that Lucy was simply beautiful, both inside and out. And he had to admit, deep down, something about her tiny corseted waist in these period dresses really did it for him.

"Here you go, Wyatt," said Jiya cheerfully as she handed him Lucy's valise to stow away along with his and Rufus'. The trio had learned early on to take extra clothes and personal items with them in case a mission took longer than planned. The guys tended to travel lighter than Lucy, usually just taking clean shirts and undergarments, while her bag would often also include a second dress and a nightgown.

Wyatt handed the valise to Rufus, and thanking Jiya, helped Lucy maneuver her voluminous layers through the opening in the lifeboat, until she was finally seated, her cheeks flushed pink at their combined efforts. The petulant look on her face secretly amused him, but he said nothing as he double checked her seat belts and made sure she was securely fastened in before taking his seat and buckling his own belts, and with a tremendous roar, the lifeboat left the platform.

Less than two days later, the team arrived back at Mason in good spirits despite suffering through a mid-summer heat wave in their heavy clothing. Lucy was pleased to confirm that the Seneca Falls Convention had proceeded exactly as it should have, and she had been especially thrilled to be among those assembled to witness Elizabeth Cady Stanton's presentation of the famed "Declaration of Sentiments" at the end of the second day. While she had attended the convention both days, Wyatt and Rufus had scouted the entire village of Seneca Falls several times over, and there had been no sign of Emma or her hired muscle.

They exited the lifeboat to find an unusually serious-looking Agent Christopher waiting for them. "Rufus, if you wouldn't mind, I need to speak to just Lucy and Wyatt for a few minutes. Why don't you get changed and go find Jiya, and I will let you know when it's time for your debriefing." Curiously looking back and forth between his startled friends, the pilot shrugged and agreed, giving Wyatt one last concerned glance before making his way to the Wardrobe bay.

The agent apologized, "I know you are both tired and must be desperate to get out of those hot clothes, but I have something urgent to discuss with you both that just can't wait. Let's take this conversation to my office," and Wyatt and Lucy slowly followed her from the platform. Agent Christopher ushered them in and closing the door to her office, asked the pair to sit down before she took a seat behind her desk.

Taking a deep breath, the agent began, "Yesterday, not too long after the lifeboat left, I received a secure message from my supervisor's supervisor about one of the Rittenhouse detainees taken into custody a month ago." At the troubled expression on Agent Christopher's face, Wyatt knew something terrible had either already happened or was about to, and he reached over to take Lucy's hand.

"Lucy, there has been a request come through the proper channels for a meeting with you." Lucy gasped softly and her grip on Wyatt's hand tightened as she steeled herself for what was to come. "All due respect, Ma'am, just spit it out," Wyatt growled, and his heart sank as the agent ignored his insolent tone. ( _How bad is this going to be?_ )

Agent Christopher sighed and cut to the chase, "Lucy, Benjamin Cahill has asked to meet with you," as Wyatt interrupted, "No way! Lucy doesn't need to be anywhere near that bastard. He's right where he belongs, hopefully for the rest of his days." Squeezing his hand, "Wyatt, please, just let her finish," Lucy asked wearily. And he reluctantly subsided at the pleading look she gave him.

"Please go on, Agent Christopher, so that I can turn you down, and get out of these clothes and go home," The agent shook her head, "That's just it, Lucy, I'm not entirely certain that you will, or even should, refuse this meeting with Cahill." Rapidly running out of patience, Wyatt erupted again, "Could you be any more cryptic, Ma'am?" She relented, "Lucy, Benjamin Cahill has requested that I tell you the reason he wants to meet with you is that it's a matter of life or death."

At Lucy's small cry of distress, Wyatt jumped to his feet, and snarled, "Is that a threat against Lucy? Are you kidding? And you want her to meet with this prick?" "Stand down now, Master Sergeant Logan," Christopher ordered in a steely voice, and Wyatt knew he had finally pushed the agent as far as he could. "Although Cahill refused to give me more than a couple details, I can tell you both that no, the death threat is not against Lucy. It's for you, Wyatt."

 _A/N: Sorry (not sorry) for the cliffhanger ;) Another plot bunny that's been hopping around my brain for a while, and I thought I'd give it a shot and see what everyone thinks. I already have a good bit of the next chapter written and hope to post it soon, plus I'm also working on the next chapter of First Steps. It's official: Timeless has taken over my life, LOL..._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Staring at Agent Christopher in disbelief, Wyatt instantly turned at Lucy's strangled gasp, "No, Wyatt," but wasn't fast enough to catch her as she slid out of the chair into a frothy puddle of skirts. "Lucy!" he exclaimed in dismay as he quickly knelt down, and putting an arm around her, brought her to his chest. Lucy's panicked brown eyes were huge in her pale face, her chest heaving and slim hands fluttering wildly as she fought to catch her breath. Wyatt realized she was starting to hyperventilate.

"I'll call Medical," Agent Christopher said. "No time, she's going into shock, get me a blanket," Wyatt ordered and reaching in his pocket, he pulled out his penknife and turning Lucy towards his chest, he carefully sliced open the back of her dress and hastily cut her corset lacings. She immediately sucked in an enormous shuddering breath and burst into tears against Wyatt's neck.

He gently rubbed her back, murmuring, "Shhh, Lucy, you're all right, just breathe, nice and slow, it's okay," as Agent Christopher rushed back in the room with a blanket that she draped around Lucy before stepping back. "I'll give you two some privacy, and alert Medical that you will be coming in. Let me know if you have any more questions or need anything else from me," and at Wyatt's quick nod, closed the door quietly as she left.

Long moments passed as Wyatt cradled Lucy's trembling body against his, softly stroking her hair until her quivering sobs dwindled away to sporadic hiccups. He leaned back and said firmly, "Let's get you to the locker room, and after you get cleaned up and change into your own clothes, you are going straight to Medical to get checked out," and when she sputtered in protest, "No arguments, Lucy, you've had a big shock just now, and nearly hyperventilated to the point of passing out."

Wyatt slowly stood, and helped a shaky Lucy to her feet, careful to keep his eyes on just her nearly colorless face as she clutched the shredded remnants of her dress to her chest. As Lucy stood there swaying, she mustered a weak glare and asked in a defiant whisper, "Wyatt Logan, were you even listening to Agent Christopher? My dear "father" has informed us of a death threat against you, and all you can do is worry about me?"

Wyatt shook his head, and tugging her against him, whispered, "Lucy, I always worry about you, don't you know that by now?" and kissed her forehead. She sighed in defeat, and wrapping the blanket more securely around her slender shoulders, conceded, "Well, I'm fine now, but since I know how bull-headed you can be, let's just get this over with," and pretended to ignore the exasperated look on his face.

Putting his arm around her, they slowly walked along the strangely (but thankfully) deserted hallway to the locker rooms, where they found a clearly worried Rufus and Jiya were waiting for them. Stopping in front of the women's locker room door, Wyatt leaned close to Lucy and breathed, "Go ahead, get showered and changed, I'll be waiting right here for you, and Lucy, I promise we will talk when we get home." He was relieved when she didn't object, just offered him a tremulous smile and impulsively pressed a kiss to his cheek ( _this woman is so stubborn, but so sweet_ ). Smiling reassuringly at the guys, Jiya put her arm around Lucy, and they disappeared inside.

Wyatt was suddenly weary, wanting nothing more than a cool shower, his own clothes, and a sandwich, preferably washed down with a couple cold beers. He motioned for Rufus to follow him, and after the other man took a seat on the bench outside the shower room, stripped off his costume, and started filling Rufus in on the situation while he hastily showered.

Wrapping a towel around his waist, he walked back into the changing area and found Rufus sitting cross-legged on the bench, deep in thought. Wyatt sighed in relief at the familiar feel of his own clothes, and sat down on the bench across from Rufus to put on his socks and boots. "Wyatt, how can you be so calm right now?" Rufus asked incredulously, "How are you not freaking out about a possible death threat?"

Wyatt looked over at him, and responded, "First of all, Rufus, it's not my first death threat," smirking as Rufus' dark eyes widened in surprise, but then Wyatt quickly sobered and continued, "and here's the thing we have to remember. You've encountered Benjamin Cahill before, and you personally know how ruthless he can be, and that he will say or do anything to get what he wants. And it's obvious to me that he needs something desperately from Lucy, and he's not above using me to manipulate her."

Wyatt pulled on his boots, and as he walked to the door, he vowed, "And I won't be used to hurt her that way." "Wyatt, hold up," Rufus responded as he got up to follow him, "Believe me, I know how much you care for Lucy, but don't you think she should have some say in this? Our shy little Lucy is a hell of a lot stronger than you might think she is." Wyatt stood still, contemplating his friend's words, and shaking his head, answered regretfully, "Rufus, I can't take that chance," and left the locker room.

Lucy tried to stop crying, she really did, but she was suddenly so exhausted. Between getting very little sleep the past two days, the oppressive heat in July 1848, her damn corset, and oh yeah, finding out that someone wanted to kill the man she loves, she felt like she could sleep for days. But that would have to wait, because apparently she needed to talk to her biological father and find out who was trying to kill Wyatt.

After shedding her now ruined costume, a sluggish Lucy struggled through a brief shower, and after she finished dressing in her own clothes, did feel marginally better. She sat quietly as a sympathetic, but comfortingly silent Jiya quickly fixed Lucy's damp hair in a messy braid for her, and managed to whisper her thanks as she hugged the younger woman tightly.

She opened the door to find Wyatt calmly waiting for her, just as he had promised. Lucy threw herself at him and buried her face in his neck, confessing, "I'm so scared, Wyatt." He pulled back, and cupping her face, asked, "Lucy, do you trust me?" She nodded through a glaze of unshed tears. "Well, then, let's get you checked out so we can go home, and I swear we will finish this conversation." Taking Lucy's hand, Wyatt bid Rufus and Jiya good night, and escorted her to the Medical wing.

The doctor on call determined that although Lucy was moderately dehydrated and suffering from exhaustion, she would be fine after a decent meal and plenty of liquids, and a good night's rest ( _easy for him to say_ ). Lucy was already dreading falling asleep, worried she would see Wyatt being harmed or even worse in her dreams. The doctor had offered her a sedative, but Lucy refused. All she wanted (needed) was for Wyatt to take her home.

When they arrived at their apartment building, Wyatt asked her where she wanted to be. Taking a deep breath, Lucy looked up at him, and digging way down inside for a scrap of courage, blushingly confessed, "Wherever you are." Wyatt's blue eyes darkened at her admission, and he gave her a slow, dimpled grin, "Yes, Ma'am." She half-heartedly scolded, "Stop calling me Ma'am," and they both knew she didn't mean it.

Unlocking his door, Wyatt ushered her inside. Aside from a few things here and there, his apartment was as barren and sparsely furnished as hers, but the only difference that mattered to Lucy was that he was here, and it was all she needed, especially right now. They moved toward the kitchen where Lucy sat and watched as Wyatt made them sandwiches, and after Lucy snagged a couple beers from his fridge, they ended up on the sofa. She had been hungrier than she thought, and practically wolfed down her sandwich, much to Wyatt's obvious amusement. "What?" she demanded. "Nothing, I like to see a woman with an appetite," he teased.

"Don't be mean," she admonished, but her words lacked any real bite when she yawned mid sentence. Wyatt actually laughed. Lucy stuck out an impudent tongue at him, and her breath caught at the look in his eyes. "Is that an invitation?" he wondered out loud, leaning in closer ( _Good Lord he smells good_ ). "That depends," she managed, "Are you interested?" and waited breathlessly for his answer.

Slowly putting his hands on her face, Wyatt sighed against her lips, "What do you think?" and Lucy's eyes fluttered shut at his hard, demanding kiss. She clutched his shoulders as he pressed her back against the arm of the sofa, ending up nearly half way under his muscular body, practically whimpering at the sensations he was coaxing from her. All too soon for her liking, Wyatt eased away from her, softly panting as he gently pressed his forehead against hers, and wrapped his arms around her as Lucy laid her head on his shoulder.

"I've been wanting to do that for a long time now," he confessed. "Me, too, since 1934," and was taken aback when Wyatt started to chuckle. "Is that funny to you?" Lucy asked rather petulantly as she pulled away slightly. "Actually, it's a little bit depressing," he replied, and at her confused expression, he elaborated, "Lucy, that fake kiss in front of Bonnie and Clyde just about knocked me on my ass. I was really caught off guard by my feelings, and I guess I wasn't sure how you felt about me, or hell, if you were even interested in anything between us beyond friendship."

Wyatt fell silent, and looking at Lucy's face, thought not for the first time that she would be terrible at poker. He had been able to read Lucy's thoughts and emotions almost from their first mission together, and watching her now, was elated at the glow in her dark eyes and the luminous smile gracing her lips. "Silly man," she whispered, and dusted a tender kiss on his mouth before putting her head back on his shoulder and a slim hand over his heart.

Wyatt held her close for several peaceful, contented moments, but the events of the past couple hours began to intrude all too soon. He was well aware that Lucy desperately needed to rest, but he also knew his stubborn little professor well enough by now to guess she would flat out refuse to until they discussed Benjamin Cahill's mysterious request.

Turning to face her, Wyatt began, "Lucy, before you say anything, I want you to understand that I'd rather you not go see Benjamin Cahill at all," and putting a finger on her lips to halt her immediate objection, "However, I know you well enough to realize that nothing I can say could keep you away from him, especially after he threw my name at you." He hissed as she sharply nipped his finger with a naughty smile. "Now, behave yourself, Lucy Preston," he ordered sternly. "I'm serious, Lucy. I think Benjamin Cahill wants or needs something from you very badly, although I have no idea what, and he's not above trying to use me to manipulate you, and I'm sorry, but I can't allow that to happen."

Lucy leaned back, and pulling her knees up under her chin, laid her cheek on them and gazed at Wyatt as she considered his words. She was quiet for so long that Wyatt started to wonder if she had fallen asleep with her eyes open. "Wyatt, I want to try and explain something to you." At his encouraging smile, she continued, "Like you, six months ago, I was completely unaware of the outrageous concept of time travel, and would have never believed it could be real, and yet, we have "jumped" through time so often during these past months, it's almost become like driving to the grocery store or the mall for the average person." Wyatt nodded in agreement.

"Personally, I have had to deal with one thing after another in the past six months since that first night, beginning with losing Amy after the initial mission, the realization that Henry Wallace was not my biological father, probably forfeiting my teaching position and tenure, gaining a completely unknown fiancé, and then the most devastating blow of all, my mother turning out to be Rittenhouse from the very beginning in this time line."

Lucy sighed deeply, willing him to understand. "The circle of people that I trust, that I can depend on, has shrunk alarmingly in six months to just four: Rufus, Jiya, Denise Christopher, and you, Wyatt Logan. The four of you have been there for me, supported and believed in me, cared for me, and I just cannot fathom going forward in this ridiculous, messed up, insane existence we all share without you. It's that simple. And if my biological father has even the smallest shred of information that will keep you safe and in my life, you need to believe that there's nothing you can say or do to keep me away from him because I just can't lose you." Having calmly said her piece, Lucy curled up against a stunned Wyatt, closed her eyes, and drifted off to sleep.

" _I think I have just been schooled, and by a college professor, no less_ ," Wyatt thought in bemusement. Well, damn, Rufus had tried to warn him that Lucy would react this way, and he could now admit to himself that his friend had been right on the money. He contemplated her words, and came to the realization that in his worry about Lucy, his innate fear of losing her, that maybe he had been a little bit heavy-handed. ( _Good thing she was the forgiving type_.) Wyatt was remarkably comforted by Lucy's words because they confirmed that his deepening feelings for her were definitely reciprocated.

Carefully easing Lucy from his side and gently laying her head on his lap, Wyatt picked up his phone from the coffee table and sent a quick text to Agent Christopher. If Lucy was determined to take this meeting with Benjamin Cahill, he could do no less than support her decision, and come hell or high water, Wyatt would absolutely accompany her. Within a few minutes, his phone chimed with a response from the agent that she would make all the arrangements and send him the details as soon as possible. As he sat there, listening to Lucy softly breathing, Wyatt couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that serious change was coming soon to their lives, and not all of it good.

 _A/N: As always, I want to express my appreciation for the great responses to this story from everyone, especially the guest reviews. This is kind of a slow burner, but I think it will be worth it. Thanks :)_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Her small hand was like ice in his, or maybe Lucy was clutching his hand so tightly he was starting to lose all feeling in it. And if she didn't stop biting her lower lip, there wouldn't be much there for him to kiss any more, and Wyatt damn sure wasn't about to let that happen, not when those soft lips were his to embrace at his leisure now. And he was very pleased but nowhere near satisfied with the number of kisses they'd shared since last night, considering how long it could be until they were finished with the day's ill-advised plans.

Not long after Wyatt had received Agent Christopher's response to his text, he had dozed off with Lucy's head still in his lap, when he was jerked awake by her restless movements. Combing his fingers slowly through her soft hair, he coaxed, "Lucy, wake up now, it's okay, you're safe." and her dark eyes slowly blinked open, and she offered him a drowsy smile. Sitting up, Lucy rubbed her eyes, and murmured, "I probably should be going, you need to get some rest, too. Thanks for the sandwich, Wyatt," and standing, she headed toward the door.

Wyatt cleared his throat, as he caught her hand and asked, "Lucy, wait, don't go. Would you like to stay here with me tonight? I really want you to." She inhaled deeply, eyes widening as she gave him a searching look. "Just to sleep" he clarified, his face reddening, "although I'm not sure if that's even possible for either one of us tonight." Wyatt caught the fleeting look of relief she tried to hide, and making the decision for her, took Lucy by the hand and led her to his bedroom.

"If you like, I have a tee shirt you can wear, unless you want to go next door and get some pajamas," he offered. When she shook her head, he pulled open a dresser drawer and grabbed her a shirt and pressed it into her hands. "Why don't you change in the bathroom while I get the bed ready?" Silently, she turned and went across the hall.

Turning back to look at his bed, Wyatt was relieved to remember that he had put fresh sheets on the day before their jump to 1848, so he quickly smoothed the covers and fluffed the pillows a little. Since Lucy was still in the bathroom, he hastily undressed and put on a pair of flannel pants and was just reaching for a tee shirt when suddenly she was standing in the doorway staring at him with big doe eyes. She looked pretty damn good in his shirt, all long, bare legs, messy dark hair, and soft pink lips.

"You don't have to wear that shirt on my account," she said in a husky voice, padding over to his bed and slipping under the covers. As he stood there in stunned silence, she smiled softly and beckoned, "Come to bed, Wyatt." He hastily dropped his shirt back in the drawer before joining her, rolling over on his side to face her. Wyatt reached out and delicately traced the curve of her check with his finger, and she gazed solemnly into his eyes.

He pulled her closer and her eyes fluttered shut as he began placing tender little kisses to her cheeks, her nose, and her forehead before settling on her lips. Lucy whimpered softly as he traced the seam of her mouth with the tip of his tongue before parting her lips for him. Wyatt took his time, savoring the feel and taste of her mouth, and gradually rolled her slender body under his, pressing his weight down and smiling as she gasped against his demanding kiss.

Wyatt thought they were making very good progress, considering the feverish little movements and sounds Lucy was making beneath him, when right in the middle of a particularly deep kiss, she jerked back sharply in time to emit an enormous yawn. Clapping a hand to her mouth, she looked so mortified, he had to grin. "I'm sorry, Wyatt, I really tried, but just couldn't hold that in," she apologized, but he was actually glad it happened, if only to remind him that both of them, especially Lucy, were exhausted and needed to try and get some rest.

"Lucy, it's all right, we have all the time in the world to continue this when we aren't nearly so tired. C'mere," he consoled, and reaching over to turn out the lamp beside the bed, he turned her around so that her back was against his bare chest, and wrapped his arm closely around her. "Try to get some sleep, I'm right here," he breathed beside her ear. After she drifted off, Wyatt pressed a soft kiss to the back of her neck, and lay awake for quite a while worrying about everything that could possibly go wrong tomorrow.

Early the next morning, they were at Mason waiting for their escort to the black site where Benjamin Cahill and the rest of the Rittenhouse detainees were being held. Agent Christopher had told them to sit tight while she finalized the arrangements. Although everyone serving in the military, especially Delta Force, seemed to be aware of the existence of the secret prisons, Wyatt actually had no idea where any of them might be located.

When he had been taken into custody by NSA agents after he and Rufus had returned from 1983 Cleveland, a distraught Wyatt tried, but had been unable to accurately pinpoint where he had been imprisoned. It was rather difficult when you're wearing a dark hood over your head and riding in the back of a windowless van. Truthfully, Wyatt had zero desire to relive the painful memories of those 48 hours, but he needed Lucy to be as prepared as possible for what this meeting would involve.

Just getting to the site itself would practically be considered a stealth mission, and that didn't even include the series of rules and procedures once they arrived. There would definitely be a very thorough pat down, and the thought of a stranger putting his hands all over Lucy made Wyatt want to punch a wall. And possibly the worst part for Lucy would be the mandatory dark hood that the two of them, as well as Agent Christopher, who was escorting them, would be forced to wear. It had been unpleasantly confining as he recalled, and Wyatt wasn't even claustrophobic like Lucy was.

He fervently wished she would change her mind, but just a quick glance at her pale but resolute face, and Wyatt knew there was no way in hell that was going to happen. He cleared his throat, and leaning closer to her, began, "Lucy, you need to know what is likely to happen to us before we even get in a room with Cahill." Looking at him, she contemplated his words, and nodded her agreement while tightening her death grip on his hand (if that was even possible).

Lucy never took her eyes off his face as he started to speak. "The very first thing they will require us to do, even Agent Christopher, is put on dark hoods, probably before we leave this room. Then we will be taken outside to whatever type of vehicle will be transporting us, possibly a big-ass SUV with blacked-out windows if we're lucky." Her dark eyes widened at the word "lucky." He grimly assured her, "And no, I wasn't being sarcastic. My personal trip to a black site was on the floor in the back of a windowless van."

She gasped faintly, and Wyatt knew it was because of what he had experienced during his ordeal and not what might lay ahead for them, because his Lucy never thought of herself first. He continued, "Then after we drive around a while, for no idea how long, we will be escorted to a kind of holding area where we surrender our phones and personal belongings and submit to a pat down before the guards take us to the elevators. I don't know how far down Cahill is being held, but I can guarantee it's pretty far underground."

Lucy swallowed hard, and bravely whispered, "What then?" His heart swelled at her courage in spite of the fact that she was probably horrified by the scenario that he was describing. "Hopefully, we will be taken directly to the room where the meeting is. You should also be aware that there will be armed guards with us at all times." Lucy closed her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths before leaning in and putting a gentle hand on his cheek, pressed a soft kiss to his mouth.

"Thank you, Wyatt. I know that you are completely dead set against this meeting out of concern for me, and while I appreciate that more than I can even say, mostly I am just very grateful for your presence." His breath caught at her next words. "Honestly? I am terrified right now, but if you are with me, I can endure anything," and he swiftly kissed her and rested his forehead against hers, nearly overcome by his feelings.

They drew apart as the door opened suddenly upon the arrival of a grave Denise Christopher. "It's time," she announced soberly, and as Lucy and Wyatt stood, two strangers in dark suits who she assumed were NSA agents entered carrying the dreaded hoods. Lucy resisted the urge to shiver, and she looked wildly at Wyatt for reassurance. "I will be right beside you the whole time, Lucy," he promised calmly, squeezing her slim hand firmly in his.

The three stood still as the hoods were lowered over their heads, and then they were being carefully guided down the hallway and taken outside. They walked a short distance, with Lucy praying that she didn't stumble or God forbid, fall down. A disembodied male voice said right beside Lucy, "Step up now, Ma'am," as a strange hand gripped her elbow ( _only Wyatt is allowed to call me "Ma'am"_ ), and she awkwardly climbed into the backseat of an SUV ( _not a windowless van, then_ ).

As Lucy settled herself on the seat, she felt a firm male thigh against hers, and reached out with her right hand, desperately searching for Wyatt. She sighed in relief as he immediately took her hand in his and began rubbing small circles on the back of her hand with his thumb. The SUV started moving, and as Wyatt had predicted, seemed to be driving rather aimlessly.

Once they drove out of the Mason parking lot, Lucy had absolutely no idea what direction they were heading, so she tried to concentrate on controlling her breathing and the steadfast comfort of Wyatt pressed against her, his warm hand holding hers securely. It seemed like they had been riding for at least an hour, but with the sensory deprivation hoods, it was impossible to be sure.

Suddenly, Lucy felt their vehicle start to slow down, and then stop. Their driver exchanged words with someone, and the SUV rolled forward slowly. A few minutes later, they came to a halt, and the engine was turned off. Lucy shivered at the sudden draft as their doors were opened, and she stumbled and nearly fell getting out.

A strong hand ( _that's not Wyatt_ ) grabbed Lucy's arm and started pulling her away from the vehicle, but she refused to move until she felt Wyatt's presence beside her. He clutched her hand tightly in his, and they moved forward slowly as one. Lucy knew as soon as they stepped inside by the immediate drop in temperature, and the temptation to shiver was nearly overwhelming. In spite of her best efforts, her breathing started to speed up, and she could have cried in relief when without warning, the hood was removed from her head.

Fighting to slow her accelerated breathing, Lucy blinked rapidly to acclimate her eyes to the sudden bright light, and as she focused her attention on her surroundings, she saw that they were in a large windowless room. Wyatt and Agent Christopher also looked slightly dazed, and she anxiously tightened her hold on Wyatt's hand.

Their NSA escorts were standing near the back of the room beside a table with another man dressed in military fatigues who gestured for the three to step forward as he pushed a large plastic tray towards them. Wyatt and Agent Christopher handed over their weapons and identification, while Lucy set her bag in the tray. While the soldier slid the plastic tray with their belongings onto a shelf behind him, one of the NSA agents motioned for them to follow him, and they were led down a sterile, unnaturally quiet hallway to a door marked "Security" and they were ushered inside.

Two more men in fatigues were waiting patiently. This must be the dreaded "pat down" that Wyatt had warned her about. Lucy watched in some trepidation as Wyatt went first, facing the wall as he braced his arms above his head, legs slightly apart, and placed his hands on the wall. He stood stiffly, not making a sound as one of the soldiers none too gently ran his hands over his back and chest, and then up and down each arm and leg, only moving when the soldier said, "Clear." Wyatt straightened up and fixing his dark blue eyes steadfastly on Lucy, moved back to stand close beside her as Agent Christopher took her place in front of the wall.

The soldier was slightly less rough with her, and did seem to take more care with the placement of his hands. Moments later, the agent was cleared, and it was Lucy's turn. She fought to control her panic at the thought of a man who wasn't Wyatt putting his hands on her person, and taking a deep breath, stepped forward and faced the wall. Lucy lifted her trembling arms up over her head, hands splayed against the wall, and her legs separated slightly. She tried but failed to repress a faint shudder as she felt a stranger's harsh hands on her arms and legs, and heard Wyatt growl a warning as her pat down seemed to take just a bit longer than Agent Christopher's. And then Lucy heard, "Clear," and it was over, and Wyatt was pulling her against his chest. "Are you all right?" he whispered into her soft dark hair. She nodded, reassured by his concern.

Leaving the Security room, they continued down the long hallway to set of elevators. After the doors opened, their entire group entered and faced front. There were no floor numbers on the wall, and they rapidly descended down what felt like at least 50 floors. Coming to a silent halt, the doors opened at the end of another long hushed hallway. They were directed towards a large room at the other end marked "Visitors."

One of the NSA agents motioned for Lucy and Wyatt to sit down at a heavy metal table on the side closest to the door, while Agent Christopher, as their NSA liaison, remained just outside the room behind the see-through mirrored window. Lucy's heart was racing so fast she was getting dizzy, and she fought the urge to put her head between her knees. Some of her distress must have communicated itself to Wyatt because he moved his chair closer to hers, and putting his arm around her, took her hand in his. She immediately felt comforted by the warmth of his solid frame against her.

Vaguely intimidated by the presence of one of the NSA agents standing near the door, Lucy was silent while they waited on Benjamin Cahill. She tried to concentrate on the protective stability of Wyatt beside her, but the longer the delay, the greater her apprehension grew. She was startled when a door at the back of the room finally opened, and tightened her grip on Wyatt's warm hand. Again, just as he had tried to prepare her for, a heavily-armed guard entered the room first, followed by an orange jumpsuit-clad man with shaggy hair and a salt and pepper scruff covering his face.

"Lucy, you're finally here," said the bearded man warmly as he was rather roughly pushed into a chair across the table from them. She heard Wyatt's sharp inhale beside her and could only gaze in disbelief, stunned at the startling change in the man's appearance since she had last seen him: this was Benjamin Cahill? Wealthy, widely-respected pediatrician, power-mad descendant of one of the founding Rittenhouse families, and her biological father? Gone were the expensive Italian suits, silk ties, and hand-tailored leather shoes he favored. Lucy realized abruptly and much too late that Wyatt had been right all along, this was a really bad idea...

 _A/N: I wanted to (hopefully) set up the mood and Lucy and Wyatt's frame of mind before the actual conversation with B. Cahill, which will happen in the next chapter, I promise! As always, I love and appreciate all the amazing reviews from everyone, especially the guests I am unable to respond to. Y'all are just the best! :) _


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

As a shocked Lucy seemed incapable of speaking at the moment, Wyatt took the lead, hoping to put to good use his years of interrogation training. "You're looking well, Cahill, life locked away below the rest of the world seems to agree with you," he sneered, and was gratified when the older man's attention swung from Lucy to him. Squeezing her hand briefly under the table, he continued, "Why don't you cut out all the horseshit pleasantries, and just tell us what you want from Lucy, considering what she has gone through to be sitting here in front of you right now."

Cahill narrowed his eyes at Wyatt, as his genial veneer instantly dropped, and Wyatt inwardly recoiled at the ruthless determination reflected in Cahill's cold eyes. He ascertained immediately that Benjamin Cahill was a desperate man, and therefore, in Wyatt's experience, one of the most dangerous creatures on earth. As Lucy sat frozen beside him except for her hand flexing nervously in his, Wyatt fell silent, waiting for the other man to speak. His sense of unease only grew at Cahill's sudden oily smile.

"Well done, Master Sergeant Logan, not only am I not offended by your lack of civility, I am gratified by your brutishly protective attitude towards my daughter." Both men were caught off guard when without warning, Lucy exploded, "Don't ever call me that! As much as I despise the fact that half of my genetic makeup came from you, I will never be your daughter." And Wyatt was dismayed that Lucy's outburst only seemed to please the other man.

"I'm so glad you brought that up, Lucy, because I think it's time you learned the circumstances of your birth, don't you?" At her measured lack of response, Cahill chuckled darkly, "That's one of the things I admire about you, Lucy, your spirit and passion, so much like your mother's. And speaking of the lovely Carol Preston..." he paused, and assured of their undivided attention, began, "I was thirty years of age, close to completing my residency, and married but childless, when I was summoned by a second-tier Rittenhouse council for a very important meeting."

"As I told you, Lucy, the day you came to see me, my father, your dear grandfather Ethan, informed me of my Rittenhouse heritage on my 18th birthday. However, he assured me that all that was required of me at that time was to finish my education and earn a medical degree. I actually had little desire to pursue a career in medicine, but since Rittenhouse would be paying for my entire education, well, naturally, a person feels a sense of obligation."

"I met my wife, Rebecca, while I was attending medical school, and was allowed to marry her since she also came from a Rittenhouse family, although one of a lower level than the Cahills. She was a lovely person, and always knew her place and duty. I was very fond of her." Wyatt was chilled by the lack of emotion in the other man's voice. He might have been describing a faithful dog or a favorite sweater.

"I was aware of your mother's family, of course, since the Prestons were positioned slightly higher in the Rittenhouse hierarchy than mine, but at ten years my junior, had never met Carol. That all changed the summer your mother turned 20. She had just completed her second year as a history major at Stanford, and was already at the top of her class. But not only did Carol Preston possess a fierce intelligence, she was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen."

"Your maternal grandparents had decided years before that their only child was destined for Rittenhouse greatness, and frankly, by the time Carol was of college age, they were a touch concerned at her lack of respect for the future they had so carefully planned for her. So, in an effort to keep her pure for her pre-ordained role in furthering the legacy of Rittenhouse, it was decided that she and I would conceive a child, one whose DNA would come from two of Rittenhouse's strongest, most esteemed families.

Lucy struggled to contain her gut-churning nausea at the cold, matter-of-fact way this man was describing how she came to exist. Thank God for Wyatt's steady presence beside her, because Lucy had an uneasy feeling that Benjamin Cahill was just getting started, and she already wanted to jump up and run as far away as she could. Gripping Wyatt's warm hand under the table, she managed, "You make it sound so clinical."

He actually smirked, and replied, "Oh, no, my dear, not at all. As I mentioned before, your mother was young and exquisite, and I'm as red-blooded as the next man. I assure you, it was no hardship at all to "contribute my DNA" the old-fashioned way." Lucy tried to repress her choked cry of horror and revulsion, and she was aware of Wyatt's sharp inhale next to her. As a sickening thought suddenly occurred to her, she whispered harshly, "You forced her? I'm the product of a planned rape?"

"Lucy, Lucy, such a vivid imagination," Cahill admonished patronizingly. "Of course no force was necessary. Carol was not only beautiful and intelligent, she was very ambitious as well. I have no idea what your grandparents said or did to persuade her, but Carol knew her duty and was very willing, and luckily for her, quite fertile. As I recall, we were only together less than a half dozen times before you were conceived."

Lucy stood abruptly, nearly knocking her chair over, and gasped, "I need some air now, please, Wyatt," and after a nod from the NSA agent by the door, he took her hand and escorted her along the hallway past an obviously concerned Denise Christopher. The NSA agent indicated a door a few feet away, and Wyatt led her inside. As soon as the door closed, he pulled her trembling body tightly against his chest.

"Shh, Lucy, it's going to be all right, I promise," he murmured against her dark hair. "He's a monster, Wyatt, so cold-blooded, it makes me ill just to listen to him." Wyatt leaned back and agreed, "Yeah, he is pretty repulsive, and I get the feeling he's just getting warmed up. Unfortunately, though, we are basically a captive audience until we get the information from him that we came here for."

She reluctantly acknowledged his words, and pressing a quick kiss to his mouth, squared her shoulders and said, "Okay, I'm ready, let's just get this over with," and holding his hand, they returned to the Visitors room. As they sat back down, Lucy cleared her throat, and said, "I'm curious. You told us you were married when all this happened. Did your wife know about me and my mother?" At the mention of his late wife, a flicker of emotion came and went on Cahill's face.

"Actually, no, not at first, however, once Carol confirmed the pregnancy, she and her parents had a list of Rittenhouse-approved stipulations. Unfortunately, one of them was that I was forbidden to conceive another child until you were at least 18 years old so that your status in the hierarchy could never be challenged, and I felt it was more humane to inform Rebecca of that than let her believe one or both of us were infertile. And, sadly, while my wife might have possibly desired to forge a relationship with you, Lucy, another of Carol's demands was that neither of us were to have any contact with you at all."

"That is why, as you so succinctly put it that day at my home, I never once tried to contact you. Rebecca and I were permitted to receive a photo of you each year on your birthday, and as you got older, there were copies of your school and medical records. Of course, Carol had no qualms about cashing the very generous check she received each month until you graduated from college."

At Lucy's quizzical expression, Cahill confirmed, "Yes, Rittenhouse paid for your entire education, an investment, if you will, so that you could follow in your mother's footsteps. I will say, I did break the rule only one time–the day you received your doctorate. You were radiant that day, my dear, and I imagine if I were emotionally attached to you, I would have been so proud."

At Lucy's pained breath, Wyatt had heard all he cared to. "Okay, Cahill, enough of this bullshit. I think Lucy gets the picture now." "Oh, but the picture is not complete yet, Master Sergeant Logan, I have a couple more things the two of you need to know before you leave here today. I don't flatter myself that you will ever return."

Wyatt leaned over and breathed against Lucy's ear, "Say the word, and we're gone." She shivered at his warm breath, and shook her head, so Wyatt ordered, "Just cut to the chase, Cahill, this is getting tedious, and you've yet to tell us anything we want to hear." "Ah, yes, there's that refreshingly straight-forward manner of yours, Master Sergeant, just one of the myriad reasons you have been of interest to Rittenhouse for several years now." Wyatt was in no mood for this prick's mind games, and ignoring Lucy's worried expression, said defiantly, "You're bluffing, Cahill."

Shifting precisely in his seat, the older man smiled slowly at Wyatt and explained, "In addition to my 'day' job as a pediatrician, my position within Rittenhouse was 'Assets Acquisition.' Simply put, seeking out individuals who might have value and could perhaps be of some service to the organization. And you, Master Sergeant, cropped up on our radar after your botched mission in Syria." He seemed to enjoy watching Wyatt try to control his temper. Lucy's agonized murmur, "Wyatt," and her steady grip on his hand helped him focus on what was at stake here.

Benjamin Cahill sighed rather theatrically at Wyatt's seeming lack of response, and continued, "After perusing your military records, including those mandatory psych evals that you enjoyed so much, we discovered you were so close to what we needed, Master Sergeant Logan. The Delta Force skills and leadership experience, the extreme 'sole survivor' guilt you felt after Syria, that only one insignificant domino needed to be tapped over to complete your transformation."

Wyatt's face went blank and grew paler with each carefully detonated word, but if he concentrated, he could feel Lucy's frantic grip on his hand tighten at her shocked whisper, "No, God, Wyatt, he's lying, Wyatt, please." Swallowing down the bile that threatened to choke him, Wyatt focused his steely blue eyes across the table, and gritted out, "Finish this, Cahill, because we've heard just about enough here today."

The older man shrugged his orange-clad shoulders in resignation, "Yes, I should have known how you'd react to the fact that your lovely wife, Jessica was it? was regretfully just an unpleasant obstacle to the greater good of the Rittenhouse objective, I guess you might say, collateral damage." At this final devastating admission, Wyatt's consciousness exploded in a white-hot haze of pain and hate and anger. In less than a heartbeat, he lunged violently across the table and began strangling Benjamin Cahill.

He didn't hear Lucy's screams or feel both the guard and NSA agent frantically trying to pull him off of the bastard. Finally, the deadly click of the guard's weapon against his temple cut through all the white noise and Wyatt froze. He was roughly shoved back into his chair, and blinking slowly, felt like he was underwater. Agent Christopher had an arm around a crying Lucy, and the guard and both NSA agents had their weapons trained on him.

He shook his head sluggishly, and Lucy rushed to him, and kneeling down, put her slim hand on his face and begged, "Wyatt, please are you all right? Please, Wyatt." He took a deep breath and replied, "Yeah, Lucy, I'm fine," and when she burst into tears, he bent down and put his arms around her, oblivious to the stares of the others and Cahill's tortured wheezing.

Agent Christopher took charge by informing the others, "My people need a break, but since we still haven't received the intel we are here for, we will need just a while longer with detainee Cahill." The agents nodded, and stood by the door as Lucy and Wyatt helped each other up and followed Agent Christopher from the room and down the hall to the empty room. "Wyatt, I don't have to remind you why we are here. I can only imagine what Cahill's words are doing to you both, but we have to stay focused. I'm sorry. Take a few moments, and then we have to see this through. Understood?" She accepted Wyatt's reluctant nod, and quietly closed the door as she left.

Staring at Wyatt's disturbingly blank expression, Lucy felt like she was experiencing a never-ending waking nightmare. All these years that Wyatt had grieved and tirelessly searched for answers to his wife's death, and it could all be laid at the feet of Rittenhouse, and she guessed, by extension, her. Her heart broke at the realization that her mother and father were directly responsible for taking away the one person from Wyatt that he loved most in the whole world. When he eventually took the time to process all of this, Lucy was sure he would hate her, and she couldn't blame him. They were through before they even started.

"Lucy? Are you all right?" Wyatt asked tentatively, and grimaced when she flinched ( _way to make her love you, Logan, by trying to kill her father right in front of her_ ). "Pardon, what? I'm fine. Are you going to be okay? I'm so, so sorry, Wyatt. I had no idea," and as she backed away from him, Wyatt grabbed her arm and hugged her tightly, "Jesus, Lucy, why are you apologizing? You didn't have anything to do with this," and he was worried when she didn't seem convinced.

"Lucy, none of this, you hear me, has anything to do with you and me. Do you understand?" And his heart sank at her distant manner. "Hey, we have to be as one in this, or Benjamin Cahill will destroy us, please, Lucy," Wyatt implored. She straightened her slender shoulders, and unable to meet his eyes, headed for the door. "Lucy, stop," he ordered, and she stopped and said without turning around, "Wyatt, it's going to be okay, we will talk about this later," and walked out, leaving Wyatt no choice but to follow her back into the Visitors room.

A mostly-recovered Benjamin Cahill sat quietly as Lucy and Wyatt took their seats. "I apologize, Master Sergeant Logan, for my ill-timed confession. There is still the matter of why I asked for this meeting. But first, one last piece of information you might find valuable. Lucy, you should be aware that your mother is extremely angry at the way you have thwarted her plans for you. Your 'attachment' to Wyatt Logan was unforeseen by her and the Rittenhouse top-level council."

"Dr. Noah Winslow, whose Rittenhouse family had ancestors on the Mayflower by the way, had been hand-picked as your husband, the father of your future children. A word of warning, then, that Carol Preston is a very vindictive woman, and both your lives are in danger. I still have a few Rittenhouse resources, and I've learned that there are plans to separate the two of you, and if necessary, force you to marry Dr. Winslow and bear at least one child with him."

At his calm speech, Lucy's mouth fell open and tears slowly trailed down her face. "You're lying, you bastard," Wyatt growled, and putting his arm around Lucy, drew her head to his shoulder and gently rubbed her back. "Actually, I'm telling the truth, and you may find this hard to believe, but that's the last thing I want as well." At Wyatt's puzzled frown, the older man pulled a creased photo out of his pocket and pushed it across the table.

"This, or should I say, he is the reason I had you brought here to see me. Remember when I told you that my wife and I were forbidden to have a child until Lucy turned 18? This is our son, David. He is 15 years old. My wife was 45, and I was nearly 50 when David was born. Actually, you met him the day you came to my house, Lucy, your half-brother." Lucy sat up, swiping at her tear-stained cheeks, and picking up the photo, peered at it curiously.

"He's a nice-looking boy," she offered, and for the first time since they had arrived, there was a spark of human feelings on Benjamin Cahill's face ( _he may be a conscienceless bastard, but he loves his son_ ). "Yes, he is," he agreed proudly, "and very intelligent. He reminds me quite a bit of my father in personality, though." Wyatt sarcastically interrupted, "Well, gee, I hate to break up this weak-assed attempt at family bonding, but what does your son have to do with Lucy?"

Now it was Benjamin Cahill who looked unsure of himself. "I need a favor from you, Lucy, actually, both of you," ignoring Wyatt's incredulous snort, "Are you kidding me?" "Lucy, please, I think we all know that in spite of my Rittenhouse connections and personal wealth, I will never leave this hell hole alive, and I have made peace with that. My only regret is my son's fate. He's only 15, Lucy, and knows nothing about Rittenhouse."

Looking at Wyatt and shaking her head, Lucy said, "I don't understand what you're asking of us." The older man took a deep breath, and looking at them with a pleading expression, pronounced, "I want the two of you to be David's legal guardians, and in order for this to work and keep my son, your half-brother, safe, you must be married as soon as possible."

 _A/N: Yeah, I went there ;) hope everyone is enjoying the ride, 'cause it's not over yet. My appreciation to everybody for all the nice reviews, follows and favorites. It's so much fun writing for all of you :)_


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